


and the forests will echo with laughter

by Eddaic



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Full warnings inside, Gen, Humor, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, as in become more mature, as unbelieveable as that sounds, bittersweet perhaps, consider this fic an apology for the way kanda snapped at miranda that one time, kanda's grown up a little, mature themes, miranda's changed too, not a happy fic but i suppose you cant really call it angsty either, tea and conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eddaic/pseuds/Eddaic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kanda is in trouble and Miranda is a queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the forests will echo with laughter

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, talk of death, mature themes.

Note: This is...kind of a universe alteration. I say 'kind of' because I'm pretty sure the war against the Earl will end while Allen is still in his teens (since this is a shounen series and all). 

Disclaimer: DGM ain't mine.

***

**and the forests will echo with laughter  
**

Kanda wanted to leave. Slide away from Headquarters and slink into the forest draped with dirt-flecked snow and silence. He wondered, not for the first time, if it would be a good idea to die. Against all possibility - against all _reason_ \- he had lived to almost thirty. His torso was wrapped in black and he had go to stupid lengths to not get hurt; even a nick on his finger could shorten his life. It hurt to breathe. One day his vision darkened while training; he had woken in the infirmary to concerned faces, and the same day had received a stern talking-to from Komui.

Huddling Mugen closer to his chest, he adjusted his position on his windowsill. Outside, the world was tinted with the powdery blue that comes with gelid winter afternoons. If he had to die, he did not want to fade, like colour from an old painting. He wanted it to be his choice. It should always have been his choice - but he was born into the sterile innards of a lab as a project, and agency was not something he had known for a long time.

 _I could end it_ , he thought absently. _Mugen would do the job_. _I could handle the pain, as long as I could just fall asleep once again..._

Some would miss him. Marie. Tiedoll. Even Allen, who was now almost as tall as Kanda. It didn't matter that most would barely notice his absence; he had never cared for such things.

He shifted his gaze to his table. On it lay a little music box that played a sweet, classical tune that made him think of frills and stiff shoes and soft light. It was an early, joint Christmas gift from Allen and Marie. He had been confused at first, and stared at them blankly. Allen had said, "It was expensive as hell. Feel special yet?"

Kanda did, but not because the present had drained his friends' pockets. He had replied, "You're such idiots."

"Why, Kanda," Allen had said, laughing. "I believe you've gone soft!"

Allen and Marie - and most of the exorcists - were away on missions, even at this time of the year, when people were meant to stay together and sing songs and wolf down sickeningly sweet things. Kanda missed them, though he would never openly admit this; it was not in his nature. It felt a little wrong, somehow, that he would spend possibly his last Christmas alone, even if he had never really given much thought to holidays of any sort.

 _Should I do it now?_ he thought, running his thumb over Mugen's smooth leather sheath. _Christmas Eve isn't until tomorrow. I could just meet Komui and the others one last time..._

Two sharp raps on his door broke his reverie.

 _Guess not_ , he thought dryly, and got up, leaving Mugen on its rack on the wall. He opened the door, and was surprised to see Miranda. She smiled and held up a hamper covered with a thin, checkered fabric. "I made biscuits with Jerry," she said. "I know you don't like sweets, but the ginger ones aren't so sugary."

At thirty-five she was one of the most beautiful women Kanda had ever seen. It lay in the confidence in her gait, in the happiness nestled in the barely-discernible lines around her warm, shining eyes. Gloves no longer hid her scars; she held herself proud and tall and unafraid. Kanda guessed that she would only grow lovelier as time went by; she was just one of those people who aged upsettingly well.

"Uh," Kanda said, wondering if he felt like being polite. Miranda began to lower the basket. "I'll take one," Kanda babbled, and grabbed a biscuit from beneath the cloth. He wished he hadn't; now he had to eat it or look stupid. Grimacing, he put it in his mouth and began to chew, feeling it crunch between his teeth. His expression changed. "Oh. That's not bad," he said, surprised. _Good God_ , he thought, _I_ have _become soft._

Miranda beamed. "I thought you'd like it." She slung the basket on her wrist. "Would you like to join us for tea downstairs?"

Kanda hesitated, averting his eyes. He would have liked tea, but the truth was that he wanted to be with his friends while he drank it - not people whose names he barely knew.

Miranda's face softened. "It's all right if you don't."

Kanda cleared his throat and nodded, which was his way of saying thank you. He was glad Miranda understood.

Miranda said, "Goodbye, Kanda," and began to walk away, her light steps echoing in the dim corridor. Kanda felt his heart squeeze as he watched her. A feeling, cool and grey, wrapped itself around his shoulders and pressed against his throat; loneliness was not unfamiliar to him, but on this moonless December day it felt oppressive.

"Wait," he heard himself say.

Miranda stopped and turned, raising her eyebrows questioningly. Kanda opened his door wider and stepped aside. "We can have tea in my room. If you want to," he added with haste. Miranda blinked twice, and Kanda wondered if this was just another one of his social blunders. Was there something else he was supposed to say? Perhaps he had offended her in some way?

Then a smile spread across Miranda's face. She looked surprised, but she only said, "Thank you, Kanda. That's sweet of you," and entered his room. Kanda caught a whiff of her perfume as she breezed by: something fresh and light. Gardenia, with a hint of apple.

Kanda made green tea in an electric kettle he stowed beneath his desk and racked his brains for something to talk about, while Miranda sat on his creaking bed and gazed out the window. The soft, calming sound of boiling water began to fill the room. _I shouldn't have called her in_ , Kanda thought, panicking. _I have no idea how to talk. If only Alma was here. He could have helped._

His throat closed at the thought of Alma, and he swallowed hard.

"It's so quiet," said Miranda, making him start. Her hands were folded on her lap and she wore a thoughtful expression. "I like it. There's such a lovely view, too. A forest, and the horizon." She looked at him. "My room is on a lower floor and faces the city. It's nice, but I prefer this."

Kanda had no idea how to respond to that, so he poured the tea into little porcelain cups and handed one to Miranda. She thanked him and blew on it, holding the cup with both her hands, like a little girl. A dark curl escaped her braid and touched her cheek, which was pink from the cold.

"This is lovely," she said, taking a chocolate biscuit from the hamper. "Is green tea the only sort of tea you drink?"

"Sometimes I take black tea," he replied, plumping down on his wooden chair. It groaned under his weight, the old, shitty thing that it was. "I hate it with milk or sugar."

Miranda laughed, and Kanda felt something suspiciously like a smile tug at his lips. He thought about how Miranda seemed to love this place; there was no bitterness in her heart towards the Black Order, or even towards Akuma. She didn't seem the sort of person who was given to hatred of any sort - though her life had been vastly different from his.

"This is the only home I've ever known," said Miranda, as if she could read his mind. The paltry afternoon sunlight was fading fast, and the shadows in the room had lengthened. Birds called outside, heralding the end of the day.

Kanda got up to switch on the only light in the room, and then sat back down. Miranda continued, "Before I joined the Order, I was just an outcast in an unfriendly village. Growing up I had no one, no friends. I was shunned." She drew a long breath. "I never want to go back to that. I would rather put my life on the line along with people I love, and who love me in return." She gave a bitter chuckle. "Loneliness is a powerful thing."

Kanda stared into his cup. "Yes," he said slowly. After a moment he snorted and shook his head. "What a fucked up, motley bunch we are."

"Never a dull moment," Miranda said dryly, with a smile that seemed suspiciously like Allen's early fake-gentleman-true-devil simper.

 _Wow, this woman's dark_ , thought Kanda, taking a sip of his tea and avoiding looking at her.

A thin, cold line of pain suddenly shot through his chest and he started, almost dropping his cup.

"Kanda?" said Miranda, sounding alarmed.

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth. "It's fine." He set the cup on the table and took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. _How many days do I have left_? he thought. _Five? Less?_

After a few long moments, Miranda said, "I'll miss you." Her voice was sad, but maintained a degree of stoicism that Kanda appreciated. He glanced at her, pursing his lips. She wasn't making this all about her. She was telling him that, even after he was gone, he would not, at least, have to worry about her.

"Yeah," said Kanda quietly.

"Are you going to take your life?"

"You're disturbingly perceptive, you know."

Miranda smiled that old Allen Walker smile again, and Kanda was tempted to shrink into his chair a little. But then her expression grew sombre and she said, "Do answer my question. I don't like pressing people usually, but I don't think I'd sleep easy wondering how you died. No one would, though I won't tell them if you don't want me to."

"You can tell them," said Kanda, oddly impassive. "But not now." He sighed and let his head fall back. On the yellowed ceiling were three little cracks, like jagged lightning bolts. "I don't want to die at the hands of Akuma, and I don't want to die in my sleep, either."

He waited for some kind of interruption. There was none – Miranda was sitting patiently, her face more or less blank, but somehow still sympathetic – and he thanked the stars for people like Miranda Lotto. He went on, "If I die fighting, I'll just die as what the Order wanted me to be, and I can't stand that. Dying in my sleep just seems...I don't know. Too passive for me. It would almost be a slap in the face to everything that happened with me and Alma." His voice wobbled a bit when he mentioned Alma, but he continued, closing his eyes, "Dying peacefully while he died in so much pain...it seems wrong."

Miranda did not speak, though her expression had grown more solemn. Kanda didn't blame her. What could anyone say to the declarations he had just made, anyway? He said quietly, but with firmness, "I want it to be my choice."

Miranda ran a finger along the handle of her cup. The furrows in her brow had deepened, and Kanda was afraid that he was about to receive yet another lecture on how to live his colossal mistake of a life. But Miranda said, "I hope, Kanda, that it _will_ be your choice and no one else's."

Kanda acknowledged her with a small, grateful nod. He felt as if some of the immense weight on his shoulders had been lifted. Miranda looked at him oddly. "Why, Kanda," she said, "you're smiling."

Was he? Kanda tried his best to smooth his expression. He failed rather spectacularly.

A big grin spread across Miranda's face. "You have a lovely smile. Allen was right."

" _Allen_?" he said, growing peeved. Had that little beansprout been flapping his jaw? How many people had he told?

"Are those dimples?" said Miranda, her eyes sparkling. She clapped her hands on her cheeks. "Oh, Kanda, you're _adorable_."

"I am this close to kicking you out of my room," Kanda growled, feeling himself flush. "Don't think I won't."

"Joking, joking," said Miranda, laughing. Kanda grunted and folded his arms across his chest.

After a few moments, Miranda said, leaning forward, "I want to tell you something. I don't mean to sound selfish, but I've drawn a lot of strength from you over the years."

Kanda blinked at her, surprised.

"I always admired you, Kanda. Not every aspect of you, I'll admit - but the way you fought, the way you always walked so tall, despite everything...and the way you came back. I respected you. I still do."

Embarrassed, Kanda cleared his throat.

"My life was richer for knowing you," said Miranda gently. "I just wanted you to know that."

"I...thank you," Kanda said, bewildered that someone - anyone - could ever see anything good in him. He never had; he'd seen only darkness, and selfishness. Warmth spread through his chest at Miranda's words, and he placed a hand over his heart, feeling it beat beneath his ribs. That he had a part to play in someone else's happiness was almost inconceivable; but he liked the feeling. Perhaps death would not be so bitter now.

They lapsed into silence for a time. Outside, a net of stars hung in the dark expanse of the sky. Kanda gazed at them, feeling somewhat wistful. He had never truly enjoyed looking at the stars, though he could see why people would. The sky was not meant for him. He had hated it less after what happened in North America, but he had never loved it. It reminded him of the things Alma would have adored, but could not; he had died too soon, too unhappy.

Miranda steepled her fingers. "I hope we meet again, Kanda," she said, "after you are free of this world."

Kanda nodded absently, turning his gaze to his room, to the tepid cup of tea on his desk, to the bare cold walls and grey floor. On the wooden rack lay Mugen, waiting to be used one last time.

"In another life," he said quietly, and gave her a soft smile.

- _finis_ -


End file.
